To Be A Soldier
by baynard
Summary: There was a reason why the light was losing to the darkness. Voldermort had brought war to Britain, yet the Ministry and the Order are treating it as battle. Battles can be fought by anyone, but wars can only be won by soldiers.
1. Chapter 1

James and Lily Potter held hands as they slowly trudged up through the familiar castle grounds as they headed for the Headmaster's office. Fingers entwined, the couple smiled as fond memories came to mind of their own time at the prestigious school that had seen so many of Britain's witches and wizards through their pubescent years.

"Lily," James pointed at a particularly clean and new looking suit of armor. "Remember when I enchanted that armor to sing and dance for you on Valentine's Day back in 5th year?"

The beautiful redhead besides the man threw her head back with a tinkling laugh and swatted his arm with her free hand. "You enchanted the bloody thing pink! Filch made you clean off the paint by hand if I recall correctly."

James Potter chuckled ruefully while running a hand through his messy locks, a habit built up over a lifetime that was both endearing to his wife and the source of endless frustration as it left his hair untamable for public events they had to attend on occasion.

"The old grouch made us clean the bloody thing with a toothbrush! Sirius always said that was the cleanest set of armor on Hogwarts ground." The couple shared a warm smile at the thought of their long time friend, and in the case of James best friend, who regularly popped in over to their modest home.

The couple fell into a comfortable silence as they steadily made their way through the ancient corridors, both enjoying the quiet presence of the other while pleasant memories surfaced with each familiar sight. The long route to the headmaster's office held the peace between the former Heads of their year, but before long they stood before the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's private chambers.

Clearing his throat, James spoke the password, making sure to enunciate the words carefully. The old gargoyle was getting on in age, and its hearing wasn't the best anymore, or perhaps it had a particular disliked towards the marauders for redecorating it one Christmas morning; it often didn't respond to the passphrases as it should whenever James or Sirius was alone.

Springing to life, the three foot statue stood up and moved aside as the stone wall behind it sank back nearly a foot with a rumble that shook into a person's chest. With a deep groan, the receding wall began to slide to the left, revealing a narrow brightly lit corridor that led to platform a good couple of meters behind the faux wall.

Hands still joined together, the couple headed into the lift. Without a word of command or a push of a button, the magical elevator began to ascend upwards towards the headmaster's office. James failed to suppress his grin as he remembered a many rides on this lift with a scowling McGonagall standing firmly behind himself.

With a silent barely audible ding, the lift announced its arrival and the two occupants stepped out onto the short hallway that led up to a majestic oak door with intricate ruins carved into the frames that towered over those that sought to enter. James pulled back a balled fist to knock, but before he could bring it forward the familiar voice of the headmaster drifted through the closed entryway.

"Come in."

The couple shared an amused look before stepping into the overcrowded office space of their former headmaster's workplace. "Someday you'll have to tell us how you seem to be able to tell when someone's at your door Albus.

The wizened old man sitting in his signature plush purple squishy armchair behind the massive ash wood desk chuckled at Lily's inquiry.

"I'm afraid that's a secret that's afforded only to the headmaster of Hogwarts my dear, though I must say, you would make a fine Headmistress."

The woman beamed at her former headmaster for the compliment while her husband pouted besides her. "You wound me headmaster! Surely you are not implying that I would not be worthy of said illustrious position as well?"

Dumbledore chuckled heartily as he indicated for the couple to sit on the two comfortable guest seats across from his own.

"I'm afraid that should I make that choice, professor McGonagall would resign her position in protest as would half the Hogwarts staff that had to teach you my dear boy."

Fawkes the phoenix, or as Sirius christened him the overgrown flaming turkey, gave what sounded like an offended squawk, causing another round of laughter amongst the three present.

"It would seem even Fawkes is prepared to resign as well should that decision come to pass," chortled Dumbledore merrily. "I'm afraid it's out of the question James. Tea?"

Pouring the couple before him a healthy portion of the steaming liquid from the magical self-refilling pot he kept in one of the many drawers in his desk, Dumbledore puttered about rearranging many of the materials on his desk to clear away space for the teacups.

Blowing on the steaming liquid gently, Lily took a pull from the brown liquid, savoring the English earl with a hint of tangerine. "While we certainly enjoyed the walk and tea Albus, I get the feeling this isn't a social calling."

The smile fell slightly from the elderly man before them and the couple exchanged a quick worried glance.

"I'm afraid you are correct in this instance my dear. I wish I had more time to understand what I have discovered, but I could not bear to live with myself if I kept this from you any longer." Reaching into his desk once more, the wizened man pulled out a glowing green stone the size of a fist before placing it on the desk before the curious gaze of the golden couple as the newspaper called them. The eerie light cast by the perfectly spherical stone appeared to be powered by an inner flame within the partially translucent gem, flickering and dancing to silent tune mortal ears could not hear.

"What is it?" The question from James was straightforward and blunt, punctuated with a frown that was often worn at the weekly meetings with the Order of the Phoenix.

"It's a lifestone isn't it?" inquired Lily with a frown matching her husbands, forehead creased as she tried to understand what it had to do with her family.

"Indeed it is," murmured Albus solemnly, hands stroking his lengthy white beard.

"I don't understand headmaster, what does this lifestone have to do with us?" The frown on James's face had deepened, the well worn frown lines aging his face considerably.

"A lifestone is linked to the life force of an individual so that one will always know whether they lived or had departed for the next great adventure. I have had one commissioned for every member of the Order of the Phoenix so that I will always know the condition of one of our comrades." Dumbledore's words elicited another worried exchange of alarmed gazes between the couple before him. Was someone they knew in danger?

"This particular stone I have not looked at for a long time because the light had extinguished from the stone many years ago. I kept it as a reminder of the cost of my own failing."

The redheaded woman leaned forward to stare at the glowing stone, forehead scrunched. "Well it certainly does not look extinguished anymore."

"Who's was it?" the question from James drew a weary sigh from the man he considered both a friend and a mentor.

"This stone belonged to Harry Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

Pale smoke curled from firm chapped lips that clamped down on the butt end of a cigarette. A ghostly cloud escaped into the light of the dying rays from the setting sun, swirling together into an almost form too quickly for the mind to register before dissipating into the surrounding air.

The young man that gazed out into the sunset over the cliff edge hanging over the deafening tides of the ocean below continued drawing in the smoke from the glowing tip of his tobacco, unmoving save for that one motion of removing the cigarette and holding it between his fingers every now and then. From around the sound of celebration drifted to his ears over the steady cry of seagulls and the roar of tide smashing into rocks below. By the time the glowing embers had reached the soft caramel butt of the cigarette, the sun had finally vanished below the horizon, though pale salmon rays still streaked across the sky. The heavy crunch of boots on foliage caught the young man's ear, but he did not turn.

"Helluva view isn't it?" The gravelly voice of Captain Railey finally drew the young man's attention away from the horizon.

"Never really took the time to look at it, sir." The voice that spoke was a harsh rasp of sandpaper on wood, a result of inhaling a bit too much of an acidic cloud that had done irreversible damage to his vocal cords leaving his voice low and raw.

The face that gazed back into the older man's could have been chiseled from marble by Michelangelo, handsome features that was overshadowed by the emerald green eyes that seemed to glow with an intense light that one could not ignore. A scar ran across the lower right side of the fetching lad's jaw, and another slashed down viciously across his left eye, leaving the flesh bumpy and knarred. Oddly enough, the disfigurement did not take away from his alluring looks, but perhaps even accented it in its imperfection, giving him an aura of mystery and weariness. His raven hair was cropped short into a military buzz cut that was sprinkled across a scalp tanned by the unforgiving sun. All in all, it was a face that would have turned a many eyes, both men and women simply for his outlandish looks.

"Well we've got all the time in the world now don't we son?" The hearty laugh from the dark skinned man hinted at more than simple merriment. There was a bit of weariness and satisfaction mixed in as well. Captain Railey was a man of African descent, his dark flesh marred by the scars of a soldier who had lived a hard life. Dark eyes gazed out with authority from a face that was plain enough to blend into any crowd had it not been the for deep worry lines that creased down both sides of his nose and mouth, grooves worn down from years of frowning.

"That we do my friend!" The deep accented English voice that spoke from behind Captain Railey belonged to a bear of a man that stood at six feet and weighed close to the animal many likened him with. "The war has been fought, and we have won! We are the lucky ones my friends. Many go to the eternal sleep, and many more will before the day ends." The solemn tone gave words to the harsh realities before them, and for a moment the three men were lost in their own thoughts, thinking of friends that had not made it.

"Well ain't that just a mood killer, eh Chung?" The bald Asian man that spoke had a face mirrored by his twin next to him; the only difference between the two was that the man that had spoken was missing his left eye.

"Sasha the bear always knows how to kill a good mood being Russian and all, right Shen?." Chung smiled earnestly as the large man gave a chuckle at the friendly jab.

"Russians do not kill the mood my friend, we simply speak the truth no one wants to hear." The large man punctuated his statement with a wag of his finger.

"Hence 'Mood Killer'," mocked Shen bringing his hands up and forming air quotes with his fingers.

"Aich, Asian men speak in riddles and circles" snorted Sasha causing both brothers to clutch at their hearts in mock pain.

"Only these two I assure you." The quiet voice that joined the five men belonged to a woman with dark hair that reached her waist, the rest of her body covered in metallic armor reminiscent of what a samurai might wear though lighter. Misato turned her soft gaze out towards the horizon, a gentle smile creasing her normally stern face. "It seems we are all here for the same purpose."

"Indeed," rumbled the large Russian man. "The war has been fought and won, and the barrier has at last been lifted. I think it is time for Sasha to go home to Mother Russia. I grow weary of drinking the piss they call beer here."

The twins nodded as well bowing low to their comrades in one single fluid motion. "It has been an honor to serve besides such fine warriors," began Chung.

"And we will never forget the friendships shared here until the end of our days," finished Shen.

Misato simply closed her eyes with a faint smile, silently acknowledging similar sentiments. Railey and the young man stepped forward and shook hands with the twins, while Sasha wrapped up both men in a single bear hug with the great span of his arms. Stepping back, Chung picked up a rock and spoke a single word while pointing his wand at the object causing it glow an unearthly blue. Picking up the stone, he offered it to his brother who placed his palm over his twin's.

"If you are ever in Beijing China," said Shen. "Look up the Lee brother's yes?" Exchanging a final nod of heads with their comrades, the two men vanished with a flash of light, leaving the clearing with two less individuals.

Misato unsheathed the katana at her side, drawing the beautiful blade out so that the light gleamed off the well-polished blade. "The time I have spent here has been trying, but I do not regret having met you lot, uncouth though you are."

Smiling at the remaining men in the corridor, she thrust the blade forward into midair, causing a glowing light that momentarily blinded those present. When their vision had cleared, a set of bamboo slider doors had appeared in thin air, hanging there as if it's existence had always been assured even though moment before it had not been. With a twist of the hilt, the doorway parted open, revealing what appeared to be a bamboo forest on the other side. "I bid you farewell and luck in your lives my friends. My home will always be open to you should you find yourself in Japan."

Stepping through the rice paper doorway, she sheathed the blade, never turning back as the doors slid close and vanished in another blinding flash of light.

The three men left in the clearing faced one another, knowing that their time together had come to an end. "Well then, I suppose this is goodbye Sasha," murmured Railey. Reaching forward, he shook hands with the large Russian before moving aside for the young soldier besides him to do the same.

"Trouble has a way of finding you Lieutenant," hummed the large man as he traded gazes with the raven haired adolescent before him. "Try not to have to call Sasha to save you too soon yes comrade?"

Chuckling, the young man nodded his agreement. "I'll try not to Sasha."

"Good. Then come share Vodka with your comrade Sasha when you find yourself in Russia yes?" Stepping back, the massive man upholstered his wand and raised his free hand in farewell. A sharp snap and he too was gone, leaving behind the last of their group.

Captain Railey turned back to his protégé, eyelids hooded as he examined the young man before him. "And what will you do now Lieutenant?"

The raven haired youth turned his gaze back to the horizon. The sunlight was almost completely gone allowing for the moon to shine up in the heavens that was beginning to show stars. "I don't know. This war was all I knew. For as far back as I remember, it had always been about the war," he said.

Placing a dark hand on the shoulder of his underling, Captain Railey joined him in gazing into the darkening sky. "There's a whole world out there beyond where the barriers blocked us from accessing. With the Lich King dead, there is nothing stopping us from leaving this place anymore. You should go see what the rest of this world has to offer you, you're a young man with plenty of talents that the world desperately needs."

"If killing is a valued talent then I'm not sure I want to go out into the rest of the world," he replied dryly with a snort.

Turning so that their eyes met, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Where will I even go Steven?" It was a rare occasion where he called his mentor by his name, but a privilege he had earned long ago.

Giving the younger man's shoulder a comforting squeeze, Railey turned around and began to march back into the darkness. "You fear not knowing where your life will take you next. The choice had always been out of your hands during the war, you simply deployed where you were told and tried your damn hardest to survive. Now the choice is yours son. Everything we have fought for cumulates in this moment where we can finally choose our own destiny. You'll be fine."

Watching his mentor's back retreat into the darkness, the youth took one final drag from his cigarette before grinding it out underneath his heel. Staring up into the full moon shining on overhead, he allowed his lips to break out into a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I suppose I owe it to them to at least try."

Turning about, he headed off into the blackness, tracing his mentors footsteps back to camp.


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius Black watched his longtime friend with worried eyes. James has been in a state of perpetual worry after receiving the news from Dumbledore. It had truly been a shocker for Sirius when James had called him over the floo to let him know that his godson was still alive. When the twins had been born, Sirius had never seen his friend so happy. He had instantly named Sirius the godfather to Harry and Remus the godfather of Daniel. Sirius had immediately gone about his godfather duties of spoiling and playing with his godson to the best of his abilities even though he could not yet walk or talk. Barely a year in his life and the boy had been declared dead after Voldermort's attack on the Potter's home while they had been away attending a meeting with the Order of Phoenix.

Sirius had never quite recovered from losing his godson, the bouncy happy carbon copy of James having firmly lodged himself into the eternal bachelors heart in the short time he had touched his life. His own feelings of loss were nothing compared to the parents of the boy, and only the presence of their remaining son had pulled the couple through the devastating times. Lily had quit her job as an auror to attend to the needs of Daniel and to always be there to guard her child. James had almost followed suit, but while the loss of their son had turned his wife more introverted and protective of their child, James had burned with a fury more frightening than any Sirius had ever seen.

The man had after taking a month off to grieve for his dead son thrown himself into his work as an auror, rapidly climbing the ranks in the Ministry as he hunted down the remaining followers of Voldermort. He split his time between his family and work and for a while the only time Sirius saw his best friend was when they were patrolling Diagon Alley together. But slowly the anger began to fade as the number of Voldermort's lackeys began to fill Azkaban, and with the unexpected conceiving of their daughter Rose, the couple finally began to truly recover from the harrowing ordeal.

Barely six years after his downfall the Dark Lord returned with the help of the traitorous rat Peter Pettigrew. His return once again plunged the wizarding world into chaos. The man was much more cautious after his near brush with the reaper, choosing instead to consolidate his forces and reaching out to allies in other nations. For the past ten years the witches and wizards of Great Britain had been engaged in a sort of cold war that occasionally exploded with an attack from the Dark Lord. Nobody ever truly felt safe anymore, and with each attack the economy got worst as people stopped going out and instead chose to stay home to avoid possible outbreaks of violence.

The aurors had been helpless to do much against the resurrected Voldermort. They had no clue as to where his base was located at. The raids he made were rapid and destructive, but by the time the aurors arrived on scene the death eaters were already disapparating away. There was no way to track individual death eaters who had not openly affiliate themselves with the Dark Lord, and those that did were the ones that had been freed from Azkaban during one of the many invasions against the wizarding prison. Auror's on the other hand were dropping like flies. Having to be registered with the ministry, the law enforcers could be looked up by anyone who wandered into the ministry and assassinations took place on a regular interval. Recruitment of auror's were at an all-time low, currently, a measly four candidates applying from Hogwarts, all of them having lost their entire family to the Dark Lord.

Watching James pace in his living room, which also happened to be the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius couldn't help but wonder if they should even be considering their current course of action. Clearing his throat, he met the worried gaze of his best friend.

"James, are we sure we want to go through with this?"

Shooting his friend a puzzled look, the auror captain paused in his destruction of the carpet with his feet. "What do you mean? Of course we have to get Harry back!"

Looking down at the carpet, Sirius heaved a deep sigh. "I know how much you want Harry back, hell I'd have given up both my legs in an instant if it would have brought him back years ago. But do we want to bring him back into this? Bring him into a life of being targeted by Voldermort, a life of being hemmed in at home while the world around him crumbles? He probably has a life of his own James! A peaceful life that has nothing to do with this war. Would he even want to come?"

The color had left James's face, and Sirius hated himself for having brought up the topic at all. "I….I never thought about that."

Stepping back, the head of Potter house collapsed into an armchair, staring moodily into the flames. "We've just been thinking about how we're going to get our son back. But maybe he doesn't even want to. Maybe he's got parents who took him in, a family of his own that he wouldn't want to leave."

Bringing up a hand to rub against his unshaven face, James closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "Sirius…I have to go. I have to see, to make sure that he's ok. Even if he doesn't want to come with us, if I can just see him once…just once…"

The door to the kitchen snapped open, startling both men out of their musings. The triumphant expression on Lily's face told them that they had finally managed to pinpoint the missing Potter's location. "We've done it! We know where he is!"

Shooting out of his seat, James raced forward and wrapped his wife up in a powerful hug, lifting the squealing woman off her feet. "I knew you could do it Lily!"

Swatting her husband she gave a chuckle while pulling her hair back behind her ear. "Dumbledore did most the heavy lifting on this."

"On the contrary my dear, while indeed I had been the one to cast the spell, had it not been for your brilliant insight we may have still been groping in the dark as to whereabouts of young Harry." The twinkling eyes of Dumbledore were a high contrast to the dark circles underneath the man's eyes.

"Where is he?" demanded Sirius with excitement. Worry about whether his godson wanting to return with them was pushed aside for the anticipation of simply being to finally see him after almost sixteen years.

Lily frowned slightly as she turned to look at her friend. "That's the strange part. We were unable to locate him with a simple location spell using the blood sample we had from the hospital. In the end we had to use a much more powerful spell that was based on soul magic to find him. The location given is somewhere in the Atlantic ocean, specifically in the Bermuda Triangle area. But as far as I know there isn't anything there."

"Nothing there?" James's frown had returned to his face. "But you're sure the spell gave the correct location?"

"Actually I may have an inkling of where Harry is, though if it is the case it disturbs me greatly." All eyes turned to Dumbledore who had taken the seat James had abandoned. "There is a large island in that area that has blocked off all contact with the rest of the world for the past two hundred or so years. Little is known about the island of Circe other than a powerful spell keeps its location from ever being discovered. Many people have tried finding the island over the years, but none have ever returned. Not until now anyways."

"People are coming out of the island?" questioned Lily.

"Yes, and the whispers of the stories that they bring with them are disturbing indeed," sighed Dumbledore.

"It seems for the past two hundred or so years, a tyrant known as the Lich King has been devastating the island along with his dark disciples, trying to find a way to ascend into godhood so he could take over the world. The powerful barrier raised over the island prevented anyone from leaving the island, and the magic was tied into his very existence. The native population has been fighting a losing war against his army of undead for generations, and it was not until recently that they had finally killed the man. Many of the people returning were reportedly missing from malfunctioning portkeys or floo accidents whose body was never located. A handful had been adventurers seeking to solve the mystery of Circe's island."

"How did Harry end up there?" asked a worried James. Only the fact that his son was alive kept his anxiety at bay.

"We never did find a body at Gordrick's hallow," murmured Sirius thoughtuflly. "Maybe it was accidental magic? It's not unheard of for frightened infants to perform apparition."

"A likely hypothesis," replied the headmaster while stroking his beard in thought. "Though to have penetrated the veil of Circes would have taken exceptionally powerful magic."

"It doesn't matter how it was done! How do we get to Circe?" demanded Lily impatiently.

"With the barrier down, the only thing that remains is the ancient natural magical current that cloaks the island of Circe which while blocks out muggle observations and repels them from the place should not be a problem for magical folks." Removing a sock from his pocket, the elderly man tapped the object with his wand while muttering _portus _underneath his breath.

The three friends stepped forward and each put a hand on the sock. In a flash of blue all four people vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing that they became aware of was the smell. It was a horrendous stench that assaulted the nose, a vile scent of decay and death unlike anything the four members of the Order of the Phoenix had ever encountered. Lily gagged and tried immediately to cover her nose and mouth, an action mirrored by her companions. But they quickly discovered that the sickly stench was not so easily warded off. It wasn't simply a smell coming from one area; it was an odor that tainted every bit of breathable air.

Blinded by watering eyes, James quickly cast a spell that dulled his olfactory senses and quickly applied the charm to his wife. Dumbledore cast a similar but more complicated looking spell that seemed to help his teary eyes, while Sirius continued to gag until James managed to get the spell on his friend.

Senses now somewhat clearer, they finally managed to take in their surroundings. They were on a sandy beach that was outlined with tropical trees that lined up into a dense jungle border, dividing the beach as if nature had made a decision on where the sand would end. Many wooden stumps indicated that the lumber had been taken away by the locals, however as far as the eye could see there was nothing but green and brown. Throughout the tropical forest, countless plumes of foul black smoke rose up high into the sky.

"What was that smell?" asked Sirius as he wiped his eyes dry. "I've never run into anything so bad before, not even when we were experimenting with high end dungbombs back in third year!"

"Whatever it is, it can't be good," stated James grimly. "I think it's coming from whatever's being burned to give off those smoke clouds."

"Albus you said that this place was ruled by a Lich?" asked Lily slowly. "As in a necromancer?"

"Indeed my dear." Albus frowned. "I suspect that you are correct in your assumption. What we smell is the scent of burning bodies."

The features of the three school friends darkened at the thought. "We need to find Harry and get out of here then! This is no place for someone to be!" shouted James.

Dumbledore nodded and withdrew the glowing green lifestone from his robes. The dull green shined much more brightly than it had before, and a quick tap of his wand caused the oblong stone to turn and point towards the western direction of the setting sun.

The group of four immediately set off following the direction of the stone that occasionally twitched slightly to correct their course. Trudging through the forest, they noted many telltale hints of battle. Here and there were scorch marks from powerful fire spells, splintered wood and stone resulting from concussive magic, and half transfigured objects that were meant to serve as barriers. Nowhere were bodies to be seen which was rather disturbing seeing as the enemy had been reportedly a necromancer of unfathomable power.

Finally the group pushed past one final line of foliage and was met with the sight of a clearing that had been made into a massive makeshift camp. Hundreds of tents were erected in neat rows and columns, evenly distributed in the area designated for those who needed rest. A number of hastily transfigured buildings made up the center of the camp, and people could be seen milling about all over the place. A ring of sharp wooden stakes had been erected as a protective barrier to the camp, and along the improvised wall were rickety wooden watchtowers that reached dozens of meters high. Men and women could be seen manning the watch posts, and the closest tower to their location lit up in a haze of yellow followed by a sharp bang from the occupant who had spotted the group.

Immediately dozens of the closest milling individuals had surged together and wound their way to the entryway, the only breach in the protective ring of staves that when examined closely actually glowed faintly.

Dumbledore raised both hands in a gesture of peace as the group approached, led by a dark skinned African man whom the others seemed to defer to.

"Halt strangers." The gruff bass of the man's voice was speaking English with an American accent. "You chose an interesting time to come sightseeing. What's your purpose here?"

Lily pushed her way past James who had been trying to shield her. "Please, I'm here looking for my son!"

Dark eyebrows shot up as the man glanced at the group. "Your son? And how pray tell do you know he's here? For that matter how do you know he's alive?"

Dumbledore stepped forward once more and hefted the glowing lifstone in his hand for the man to see. "This is a lifestone tied to his soul shortly after birth. An unfortunate incident left us thinking that he had passed away, but recently the lifestone began to glow once more. The only location that could have hid his life force away from the lifestone was here in Circe."

The dark skinned man gave the stone an appraising gaze before speaking a sharp command to the group of witches and wizards behind him who had all been fingering their wands while watching them converse. A few members spoke back in the same tongue, but with a single look the group dispersed back into the camp.

"The names Steven, Captain Steven Railey."

Dark eyes watched the group carefully as a round of introductions was made.

"We've got a few foreigners like myself who had the unfortunate luck of ending up here in this godforsaken island due to some mishap or another," continued the captain. "But most of them are dead. Judging by your age, there's only one person that could be your son."

"He's here?! He's alive?" James had to stop himself from grabbing the man's uniform. "Can we see him?!"

The dark skinned man chuckled and beckoned them to fall into step behind him as he marched back towards the camp where his followers had reentered.

"Yes, he's alive and well. I'll take you to him. But I warn you, I don't know what you had in mind when you came looking for your child, but I don't think he's what you're looking for."

"Please, we just want to see our son," implored Lily with tears welling in her eyes.

The dark skinned man exhale noisily as he slowed his pace once they passed the erected barricade.

"I don't doubt that," he replied with a weary sigh. "Just…just ease him into it ok? I'm not sure how he's going to react to the fact that he has family that is alive and well."

Noting the way the other members of the camp saluted the man, it was a safe bet that he was most likely either the leader or high up enough to make a lot of important decisions. He led them to one of the smaller buildings and paused at the doorway. Turning he faced the group with a frown on his face.

"I hope you're not squeamish."

With that warning, he pushed aside the door and led the group in to find the Potter's wayward child.


	5. Chapter 5

When they entered into the building, for a moment the foreigners could only stand and stare in stunned silence. The inside of the structure had obviously been enchanted with an expanding charm; as far as the eye could see lay the bodies of injured men and women. The sounds of screams of pain, retching, moaning and soft crying filled the space like a dying symphony, played by some unseen ghastly conductor. The smell was the worst part. The stench of death itself was a horrid sickly sweet sensation that was stomach turning but oddly alluring. James had to fight back the bile in his throat as he tried valiantly to ignore the sight of death and decay about him, but Sirius had no such inhibitions.

The head of the most noble house of Black bent over his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach in one dry heaving gag, adding to the unpleasant noise made by the dying within. Lily had a shocked and horrified look on her face as her eyes flickered between the forms of the many injured and dying as if searching for someone.

"Merlin save me," whispered Dumbledore his face ashen. "How many are there?"

"Too many," replied captain Railey grimly.

"And Harry? He's here?" whispered Lily.

Tears had sprung to the redhead's eyes, and James had his fists clenched so tightly at his side the skin on his knuckles were a pearly white. Which one was their son? Laying on his side, limbs missing? Disfigured from burns? Bleeding so heavily the bandages were soaked with gore? Or one of those who simply lay there unmoving, eyes unseeing, already in the embrace of death?

"He never struck me as a Harry," said the dark skinned man thoughtfully as he led the group down the narrow path that had been set aside for the medics and healers to use as a runway between patients. The man ignored the sight and sound of the walking wounded with the ease of practice, his step steady even as he wove them between lifeless bodies.

"Where is he? How is he?" demanded James.

"Oh he's fine. Your son isn't one of the wounded," said Railey calmly. "He's in fact here dealing with the injured. Those that can be saved anyhow."

With that said, the captain led the group up to a walled off area at the back that was separated by a heavy dark green cloth. Pulling the flap back, the man exposed the controlled chaos within to the group of outsiders.

On a makeshift medical gurney dyed red by the rivulets of blood cascading off the sides of the shoddy table laid the body of a convulsing man. He had lost both legs at the knees, the flesh and exposed bone that were slowly weeping coagulated blood cauterized by an intense heat that had no doubt saved him from bleeding out. All around him fluttered half a dozen people all holding various medical instruments and bottles in their hands, exchanging words and material faster than the eye could follow. They all maintained a certain distance from the injured soldier being worked on and the man who was currently operating on the patient.

The uniformed surgeon wore what might have once been a white pristine apron that now better resembled something you might find in a butcher's shop, complete with a dirty mask covering the lower half of his face that had definitely seen better days. Sweat dripped down his brow as he worked and every so often one of his masked assistance would step forward and wipe the liquid away with a rag filthy from reuse. He had his wand in one hand, the ash tip glowing a gentle lavender, his other hand buried deep in the amputee's abdomen in a particularly ugly looking gash that exposed his innards to the air.

As the British wizards and witch watched with the contents of their stomach pressing in their throats, the man gave a final deft flick of his wand and a black glassy shard tore itself free from the injured wizard's wound. It floated in the air for a moment, and seemed to pulse with energy. To anyone who was staring at the piece of shrapnel it felt like the light in the room itself seemed to be absorbed by the glassy material. If they strained their ears they could hear an indistinct whisper that seemed to originate from the shard itself, sending their flesh crawling with an unclean feeling.

With a quick flick and jab of his wand, the surgeon incinerated the offending shrapnel in a burst of heat, causing the shard to send out an ungodly shriek that seemed to echo in the back of a listener's skull.

"Get me a blood replenisher potion in here! 12 CC's or this man's going to be dead within ten minutes," the surgeon grunted his voice a harsh growl even through the muffling effect of his mask.

"We're out of replenisher sir."

"How's our supply of type AB?"

Getting a negative reply, the surgeon swore under his breath as he stood up.

"Do we have a type O here?" he demanded of his assistance.

Getting a negative reply, he ran his hand through his hair in a gesture eerily reminiscent to James's own habit when frustrated. Turning, the man spotted the group that had entered. James felt his body tense up as a familiar set of emerald eyes locked with his. Only his wife had that particular shade of eyes. There could be no mistake as to the identity of this man.

"Railey! Get your ass over here!" his son barked.

The captain did as he was told, rolling up his sleeves as he got close. "Giving your commanding officer orders lieutenant?"

"You might outrank me anywhere else Steve," quipped the surgeon as he took a needle and an attached bag that had been offered by one of his assistance, "But in the hospital, I am god and you will obey my words."

A quick jab of the needle into the muscular arm of the captain and blood began to flow into the clear plastic bag. "When was the last time you ate captain?"

"Breakfast."

"Good enough. There some reason you darkening my doorway or you just like visiting at bad moments?"

"There are some people you should meet."

Turning the still masked surgeon cast a curious look at the group standing at the entryway to the impromptu surgery room. Even through the mask they could tell he was frowning.

"Outsiders? Not exactly free to give a tour here Steve," he said dryly as he idly watched the blood leave the man's body. "We're a bit overloaded at the moment if you haven't noticed."

"They came specifically for you."

Turning to look at the group at the doorway, the lieutenant narrowed his eyes as his gaze fell on James.

"Look familiar?" asked Railey quietly as a nearby healer removed the needle from his arm and pressed a piece of gauze up against the small puncture wound.

Standing up without a word, the bloodied surgeon marched over to the group in front of the doorway, coming to a smart parade ground rest in front of them. Removing his mask with a deft flick of his wrist, he crumpled the soft material and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his scarred visage showing little emotions.

"Harry," sobbed Lily as she clutched at James's arm. The head of the Potter household who had been so desperate to find his lost son found himself lost for words now that he was facing his child.

"Not sure who this Harry is mam," replied the lieutenant sternly. "Lieutenant John Stewart, at your service."

Dumbledore finally stepped forward, ushering the shocked couple a few steps back.

"If you don't mind, I would like to conduct a simple test to confirm something."

The now named lieutenant frowned but nodded his consent. The older wizard pulled out the glowing lifestone out of his pocket and offered it to the younger man.

Eyeing the glowing rock wearily, John reached out and took it, noting how warm it felt in his hand. The stone dimmed then lit up like a beacon upon his touch before darkening back to a shimmering emerald that caused everyone in the tent to pause and peer anxiously at the glowing nugget.

"And what exactly was this supposed to prove?" John asked with a raised eyebrow as he returned the rock to Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"This is a lifestone my dear boy. I tied it to the soul of a child the day after he was born. Sixteen years ago, a terrible wizard was through to have destroyed that boy. The lifestone itself indicated that the boy's soul had been snuffed from existence, and until recently had remained lifeless."

"And you think that boy is me?" asked the soldier both brows now raised in an expression of disbelief.

"There is one more test that could easily prove out suspicions," replied the wizened headmaster. "A simple bloodline test will prove if you are indeed related to James and Lily here."

The lieutenant watched the couple appraisingly. "Well I guess it couldn't hurt-"

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by a blaring alarm that sent the people in the operating room into frenzied motion.

"What's happening?" shouted Sirius over the din of the alarm and the hundreds of yelling voices that had suddenly sprung up.

"That's the alarm signifying a breach of the perimeter!" hollered back the captain as he sprung to his feet. "We need to-"

The flap of the tent was thrown aside as a panic faced native rushed in. "RAVAGERS!"

The blood drained from the faces of every individual in the room, confusing the outsiders.

"Break out the 50's from storage!" roared Railey. "John, get your ass out there and raise some hell! I'm going to rally the troops and try to form a skirmish line! Buy me as much time as you can!"

Snapping a quick salute, the lieutenant was out the doorway barking out orders for the soldiers closest to follow, closely trailed by the dark skinned captain who was shouting into a handheld radio he had strapped to his shoulder.

"Wait Harry!" cried Lily as she tried to follow after her son.

The woman was jostled by the dozens of soldiers hastily following after the two men leading the charge towards the front door. Even many of the wounded that could were struggling to their feet, reaching for wands, blades and muggle firearms. The lieutenant ignored Lily and raced for the exit, the Potters hot on his heels followed closely by Sirius and Dumbledore. It seemed the war was not quite over yet.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Lily saw as she exited the hastily erected hospital was complete and utter chaos. The camp they had left behind when they entered the building had been calm and collected. People had been either going about their duties or resting to conserve energy to finish healing their wounds. None of that tranquility was present at the moment as people raced about with wands and various other weapons drawn. Shouts in the native language peppered through the air at a rapid rate, hundreds of voices voicing questions, demanding orders or offering prayers.

The perimeter of the camp which had been a wall of tangled trees and foliage when they first arrived had become a sea of mist gray. The dark thick smoke like apparition blotted out the sunlight until a premature night had fallen, adding to the eeriness of the supernatural fog. The thick wooded staves that ringed the outside of the camp were glowing a fierce yellow, the light seemingly halting the advance of the dark vapor, though by the way mist inched mindlessly forward it would not be able to stall the fog for much longer.

"Where is he?" demanded Sirius as he caught up with the couple searching for their child.

"I don't see him!" yelled back James over the crowd. "Lily do you-?!"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a sudden increase in shouting from the frantic soldiers, and a moment later the reason why was apparent. Something dark and heavy came hurtling through the mist choked air and landed with a terrific thud a couple of meters away from the Potter couple, causing the foreigners to give strangled yells of surprise even as they reflexively raised their wands into defensive positions.

Risking a quick glance at the missile, Lily felt vomit threaten to spill from her lips. Moments before this had no doubt been a living breathing human being. Judging by the way the body was contorted into a shape no living human could possibly hope to replicate, whoever they had been, they were definitely dead now. More bodies came tearing through the darkened air, some managing to hit unfortunate passerby's unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Others simply exploded into a gory mess of shredded human remains against the erected buildings, repainting the white structure with crimson chunks and streaks.

Out in the distance, the sounds of spells being hurled about could be heard alongside the unfamiliar crack of firearms. Captain Railey was seen hurriedly pushing men and women into formation, staggering them out so that none were bunched up together too closely. His shouted commands were lost in the din, but already it could be seen that he was making some order out of the chaotic mess that had befallen the camp. Together the four members of the Order of the Phoenix moved towards the captain, hoping to find answers from the man.

"Spears up front! Spears in front! I want concussive and conjured projectiles only! Where are the god damn 50's?!" shouted Railey as the group approached.

The man repeated his orders in the native tongue, ignoring the group of outsiders as he continued to bellow out commands even as the spell fire outside the camp began to slacken, replaced by deep throat bellows and screams of dying humans.

"Where's Harry?!" demanded James as he grabbed the captain by the arm.

Wrenching his arm out of the other man's grip, Railey shot a heated glare back at the head of the Potter household. "Out there holding the lines until we get in formation! Now get back into the camp! All of you! This is no place for civilians!"

"We're aurors, we can fight!" shouted back Sirius even as James turned frantic eyes towards the inky smog roiling before the entryway to the camp.

"What are we facing here captain?" Dumbledore asked steadily, his eyes narrowed as he glared out fiercely into the sickly mist. The old wizard radiated a dangerous calm, a visible typhoon of held back energy raring to be released from his aged body. At that moment, it was easy to see why Voldermort still held such fear and respect for the old headmaster. Time might have robbed the man of some of the power he had had in his youth, but with age came the edge of experience.

As if in reply to his question, a deafening roar echoed only a couple meters away from the group, just outside the range of visibility. A body was thrown through the mist to skid to halt before the battalion of soldiers, the mangled form reduced to an unrecognizable meaty mess that barely held a vague humanoid form.

"A piece of hell," whispered Railey as a large form began to part the dark fog.

The thing that came into view was a horrid representation of everything wrong about necromancy. It held a vague resemblance to an extremely obese man, except that it stood nearly a good four meters tall. Its flesh was a pale shade of gray, hanging off in great rotted and diseased flabs. Sores and pus oozed from various places across its body, most prominent in the enormous decaying belly that hung out in front of its body like a flaccid drum. A thick loose jaw that hung open almost halfway down its enormous belly in an unholy grimace that showed off far too many broken and crooked teeth worked wordlessly as a soft groan emanated from its throat. Mist seeped out from every open orifice in a dense choking cloud, adding to the inky blackness it had walked out of. White unseeing eyes raked across the group of humans before it, searching for something no living being could comprehend.

Everything about the creature screamed it's wrongness to onlookers as if the universe itself couldn't stand the existence of this horror. There was just something so fundamentally evil about its existence, something that made the senses wish to deny its presence even as the creature stood there before them in all its twisted glory.

"Light'em UP!"

The bellow from captain Railey broke the outsiders from their stupor as hundreds of spells and conjured projectiles hurtled through the air and slammed into the immobile creature. The powerful striking spells that would have blown a man clean off his feet if even a single one connected barely moved the creature. Lights of every color peppered the things magic resistant flesh in a hail of fury, pushing it back by sheer volume. The conjured spikes and blades thrown from wands fared better, tearing of rotting flesh where they touched causing the massive undead to roar in agony.

It swept one arm up as if to swat away some annoyance as spells continued to pound its hide. Staggering back against the unrelenting fury unleashed by the defenders, the creature stumbled drunkenly as it swatted at the air with its deformed arms. After a moment, it faltered and gave one final soulless howl before crumpling to the ground, landing with a resounding thud that reverberated through the chest of every individual present.

There was a moment of silence as everyone continued to stare at the creature, as if expecting it to claws its way back to its feet despite being shredded by the hundreds of spells thrown at it.

"Is it over?" Lily asked in a shaky voice. Her trembling wand was still pointed at the unmoving behemoth, the tip smoking from the torrent of bludgeoning hexes she had unleashed moments before.

"Were it so easy," murmured captain Railey as he squinted out into the mist, his own wand lowered.

A dozen roars echoed in the distance, sending a shiver down the spines of all present.

"Where are the god damn 50's?!" roared the captain at no one in particular.

A sickly looking man raced out of the darkness that had finally penetrated the camp walls moments before the creature had fallen. The living mist had spilled over the top of the protective staves into the seemingly last safe haven on earth for those trapped within.

"Sir, the machineguns were sent to the southern apex this morning to reinforce the temple region. We don't have any heavy weapons left!"

Face settling into a grim expression the captain turned dark eyes into the unnatural fog. All along the perimeter, massive hulking forms could be made out, dark shadows that seemed to be probing along the walls. Here and there the wooden staves would budge with a groan as a massive form would lean up against the barrier, as if trying to push its way into the encampment through sheer brute force. Each shove caused the glowing staves to dim and flicker, casting eerie dancing shadows along the perimeter of the camp. It would not be much longer before the protective wards woven into the wall would fall altogether.

"Then we do this the hard way!" shouted the captain.

Marching to stand before his men, the dark skinned man turned his back to the darkness. Letting his hard gaze rake across the troops before him, Railey forced his tired face into a steely resolution. Spines straightened and hands ceased in their trembling as his eyes traveled across the group of weary soldiers. Each man and woman seemed to stand taller as they met the eyes of their commander, their own fearful faces morphing into a hard stone expression to match his.

"For two hundred years this island has been plagued by an evil born from a single man's desire to escape the clutches of the reaper," began Railey slowly.

His voice carried into the darkness even as he paced before the group of assembled veterans. Each of his step was measured, the resounding thud of his boot an unspoken representation of the man's indomitable will and resolve.

"Four generations of men and women gave their lives to stem the tides of darkness; four generations drew a line in the sand and held their ground against death itself."

Here he paused in his step to once more face the attentive listeners, fierce scowl fixed on his face. His deep gravelly voice was a masterful display of oration at its best, a perfect mix of control and power capable of mesmerizing all who were within earshot. Even the members of the Order of the Phoenix found their blood stirring at the man's words.

"We are the fifth, the ones who came after, the ones who finished the fight they started. Blackhand and his cursed heart ceased to beat because we fought, because we held our ground, because we _willed it!_ His abominations may still stand, unknowing and uncaring that their master has fallen, mindlessly carrying on his last commands. Even as these beasts circle, we know that they are the last of their kind. We stand here surrounded by the darkness of his legacy, but we know that this is the last visage of a man already gone, a man that has already lost! Here, today, we will show them that this line we drew, this line we gave blood and life for, is the one line that they **WILL NEVER CROSS!"**

As the captain finished his speech, the men and women drew themselves forward, howling a single cry of agreement, their voices seemingly causing the dark mist to recoil before their very eyes, fearful of their resolution. James and Sirius found themselves roaring their agreement along with the natives even as Lily smiled grimly besides Dumbledore who was nodding his head slowly. It was not their battle, but they would see it through to bring Harry home.


End file.
